


Dean And Cas Meet On Tinder

by Violetlyvanilla



Series: Consumerist Meet Cutes (Stand Alone, Completed, Mostly Shop AUs) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allusions to cannibalism, Allusions to cockles, Allusions to spn rps, But not really at all, Gratuitous use of Social Media, Modern AU, Modern Romance, Pining, Slow Burn Ish, The author apologises for this hot mess, Tinder Dating, rom com, spncoldesthits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetlyvanilla/pseuds/Violetlyvanilla
Summary: Post breakup, Dean fills his days with work as a Model / Mechanic / Fire Fighter. When Charlie downloads Tinder on Dean’s phone, he is angered to find someone named Castiel impersonating his favourite Supernatural character on the dating platform.





	Dean And Cas Meet On Tinder

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: Violetlyvanilla 
> 
> Written for the spncoldesthits May Redux challenge: http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/173509982115/redux-may-prompt-posting-dates-15th-19th
> 
> Tags used: http://ao3tags.tumblr.com/post/173311663560/allusions-to-cannibalism-the-author-would-like 
> 
> “Allusiions to cannibalism” and “The author would like to apologise for this hot mess” 
> 
> Credit to Soupernabturel for the inspiration “posting ‘non-couple’ couple pictures on their insta”.

Dean watches as his phone screen display changes from December 31st to January 1st. 

Dean kisses the bottle of Jack, throws his head back and necks the liquor with abandon. There's shouting and cheering and people jumping up and down in the cold and Sam is holding Jess and spinning her around and around. His knees damp from the dirty snow and she was still laughing a protracted "Yesss". 

The fireworks are blurry and so is Dean's phone screen when it lights up with Lisa and Ben's new years message. Full of whimsical emojis and attaching a photo of them grinning. Lisa's eyes smiling sweetly and softly the way that he always liked. But liking wasn't the same as loving, as things turned out. And liking very much was still a little short of enough. 

Dean passes out on Sam's couch, it's worn leather and smells of the vanilla-ry candles Jess liked to burn. It is an oasis of smothering pillows and sometime during the night Sam or Jess covers him in an electrical blanket. He wakes to the sight of mischievous blue eyes, peering up at him and a pink mouth, tongue poking out at the side of sharp white teeth. There's something on his thumb. A button. The unlock button to his less than X iPhone. 

Dean makes a sound of pain and weakness as Charlie leapt back from her stealthy manoeuvre. She held up Dean's unlocked phone with triumph. And Dean thinks to himself, inviting his platonic LARPing best friend as his plus one for the holidays, was a misstep. 

Charlie proves him wrong by not judging the browser-ful of tentacles that was the last thing he drunkenly Firefox Focus-ed before passing out. Instead, she taps busily and guesses his App Store password with inhuman speed. Dean groans when she snaps a photo of him, eyes closed and hair awry, snuggling into the blanket and wishing for oblivion. Or bacon. 

Some half hour after waffles and syrup and maple drenched rind, Dean recovers enough to remember the attack. When he opens his phone he sees a new icon. Dean stares at the ombre orange-red framed flicker, when his finger touches the tiny flame Tinder opens. 

The tutorial was sufficiently straight forward even in the context of Dean's hangover. He settles at the breakfast table while Sam does the dishes and Jess and Charlie try very hard not to be seen to be watching and grinning at him. 

DEAN, 37  
MODEL / MECHANIC

Aquarius, Manly/Sensitive.  
Apple Pies/Chocolate Cake.  
"Nobody puts baby in the corner"

 

There was a photo of him, featuring his scruffy jawline and freckled cheekbone, the blanket loose and fuzzy against his bare clavicle, his muscled shoulder peeking through almost teasingly. Somehow the photograph does not convey the booze-y, fatigued and messy reality that Dean imposes on himself. It shows a sort of artistic careless beauty and even Dean had to admit the subject of the candid snap looked hot. 

Tinder thought so too. For a while Dean wondered why the screen flashed aqua and blue stars kept blinking onto his screen. Raising a brow, he googled 'Tinder blue star meaning' and worked out they were likes. 'Super Likes'. He wondered if Tinder was mocking the failure that was Lisa and Ben and playing happy families then decided that he should at least look through the profiles before he gets any more morose. 

Jess and Charlie had made themselves giant cups of dirty chai and were peering over his shoulder as he browsed. Charlie had kindly set his preferences to men and women. Dean found out quickly that he enjoyed reading bios and categorising the profiles he came across. There was Intensely-Sexual!Men like:

BALTHAZAR, 40  
HEDONIST 

If you can dream it, I've done it.  
Multiple times, multiple people, at once.  
Life's too short for twosomes. 

[Photo of hotel bed, photo of handcuffs, photo of pubic hairline, photo of yacht]

Dean laughed at the brazenness of the profile but figured that if he wanted that sort of action he should just go to grindr. And he was just a little too sober to set up a grindr profile in that moment. 

Or Ironic-Casual-Sex!Guys like: 

GABRIEL, 28  
TRICKSTER 

In the morning, I am nice  
In the afternoon, I am naughty  
In the evening, I am gorgeous  
In the morning, EGGPLANT EMOJI HAPPY CRYING FACE 

P.S. Why is everyone obsessed with asking for height?

[Photo of nice looking man standing under Hollyweed sign, photo of fare rides, photo of glossy auburn hair and wicked grin]

Dean didn't mind the sound of Gabriel but he was more of a go out on the town and be drinks buddy with kind of proposition. Dean tapped at the photos for a while and swiped left. 

There was also Completely-Out-Of-Their-Mind!Individuals like: 

LUCIFER, 45  
PRINCE OF HELL 

[No bio, photo of piercing blue eyes - uncomfortable close up, photo of flexing on the beach, photo of buttocks, photo of riding firetruck, photo of genitals, photo of stroking ginger kitten, stock photo of pile of cash, photo of patting baby duck]

Dean swiped left so hard his fingertip singed a little. 

* * * 

"You've not matched yet?" Charlie punched Dean in the arm by way of greeting at work. 

Dean drank deeply from his coffee cup and said nothing. 

"Is it the Model/Mechanic thing that's throwing people off?" Charlie wondered out-loud. "I mean maybe they think the profile is fake because you only have the one photo and it's way too good looking. That plus the unrealistic combination of occupations, which you know I did consider and modify for Tinder ..." 

"I just haven't swiped right on anyone," Dean grunted. He was standing at her desk with his shirt off, artful streaks of engine oil highlighting his bare torso. 

The truth was Dean wasn't a Model / Mechanic. He was a Model / Mechanic / Firefighter. He worked fire engine maintenance and also staffed the fire fighting crew. And because Bobby the fire chief was as cruel as he was enterprising, Dean was Mr May, October and December for the charity calendar three years running. Till a fashion photography agency head-hunted him and now Dean works photoshoots when he's not on roster and gets to live in a loft that's much closer to Sam and Jess' place and his baby has her own rotating garage and custom machined parts. Charlie worked in IT but volunteers her time at the station to help out with fundraising. 

"If you don't match by the end of the week Dean, this happens." Charlie clicked her mouse ominously. 

The poster showed a sooty faced Dean scowling at the camera.  FIREMAN AUCTION. The caption read. 

"FiremAn?!" 

"We don't need to wheel out Garth and Jody and Eileen when we have you Dean," Donna, from the exchange shift crew, piped in. "Leaves more of us on shift while you make the money moves." 

"This is so un-PC," Dean muttered darkly. 

"Yes, I feel excluded," Bobby grumbled as he walked past. "Beauty is only skin deep, Idjits. Wisdom is the new sexy." 

* * * 

Because Dean is in a loft with a supersized screen and the latest console and lives in the delivery zone of three amazing pizza places, Charlie comes over on a regular basis. She makes good on her threat of verifying his match status and joins him for dinner and entertainment on the Thursday night. 

Charlie opens with "24 hours, tick tock" when Dean opens the front door for her. 

They order extra cheese and garlic pizza, buffalo wings and drink craft beers that Sam ordered Dean on subscription to some hipster beer tasting club. Dean's pretty sure the gift of the subscription was done in irony but he does actually enjoy the brews. After some intense first person shooter-ing and a round of brutal vintage Mario Cart, Dean puts on Supernatural. 

The show had been on air since Dean was in his twenties and it was trapped in a sort of early Noughties time-warp. Occassionally ground-breaking, usually entertaining and very rarely not cheesy. It was about a pair of ghost hunting brothers, Misha and Jack Collins. They slay monsters and looked very pretty while doing so, wearing their burden like well-fitting Burberry coats. Misha Collins was Dean's lustful favourite, with his laser blue eyes, blazers and dark denim ensemble. His voice lilting and rapid, his smiles goofy and seductive in turns. Dean was such a devout Supernatural fan, he even went to a convention once. Where he got to hug the actor who played Misha, Dmitri Krushnic. Dmitri wasn't as warm and friendly as the character he played, he certainly wasn't the bi-sexual icon he portrayed. A genuine family man, Dmitri was courteous, handsome and very much respectful towards his fans. Even fans who looked like Dean. They ended up following each other on Instagram. Dmitri made some very generous donations to Dean's fire station via his personal NGO Chance Deeds. And Dean had his heart set on attending the EuroCon where Dmitri annually appeared in solo panels with Supernatural recurring guest star Jennie Freckles, who plays Angel. Dean knows, in his heart of hearts, that there was nothing but mutual professional admiration between Dmitri and Jennie. But the way they looked at each other, the way they lit up the screen together, was uncanny. When Lisa and Dean were still together, they'd watch the show and when Angel and Misha saved each other and stepped up for one another through one Zombie crisis to the next Apocalypse, Dean and Lisa would both look wonderingly out the corners of their eyes. It was chemistry they should, but didn't, have. 

Dean's glad Lisa has that now, with her new partner and that Ben still remembers Dean fondly and they're all still friends. But watching Supernatural made Dean a little sad sometimes now, though he still had the tickets booked for EuroCon, he had no one to go with. Charlie wasn't allowed to travel overseas for the next three years, something about her IT contract, government confidentiality and remaining on US soils. 

Since it was an episode without Angel and Misha was on another self-sacrificing bender, Dean opened his Tinder app during the commercial break. 

ROWENA, 60  
PROFESSIONAL  
Pumpkin Emoji, Broom Emoji, Cat Emoji, Cauldron Emoji, Wink Face

Dean swiped left absent mindedly. 

BENNY, 41  
CHEF 

Hi, name's Benny. If you like good food and friendly company, I'm your guy. Win my heart and I'll stick by your side ,thick or thin. Please, I'm only interested in a deep and meaning connection.   
(Also, thought I'd just be upfront I have a bit of a blood kink, but I'm not into hurting anybody. So don't be a dick, match me if you're not judgemental. )

Dean liked the look of Benny but he wasn't sure if he would be up for exploring that sort of thing. He swiped left and filed away the idea that maybe if Benny came across his dash again he'll try swiping right next time. 

GADREEL, 30  
PROFESSIONAL / GARDENER

I am good with people and like interesting conversations. 

Dean raised his brows. Gadreel was very handsome and his photos were all black and white, taken from mid to wide angles. He had a nicely proportioned body and a fierce stare. 

Dean made sure that Charlie was looking at the screen when he swiped right. The app immediately informed Dean that it was a match. And also that 300+ people had liked Dean and queried whether Dean would like to save time by purchasing the premium app which will reveal all of Dean's matches. Dean pressed skip. Then he waited for Gadreel to contact him and begin the interesting conversation his profile promised. 

Three hours later, Charelie went home. 

Midnight, Dean went to bed. The chat icon in Tinder remained blank. 

Dean shrugged and swiped right on a bunch of profiles just to see if the app was broken. 

* * * 

Dean's morning was filled with stiff finger joints and a cluttered string of matches. Peering down at the long list of round circular profiles, Dean sighed. 

Then the push notification let Dean know that he had 20 messages from Gadreel. 

MY NAME IS GADREEL. 

I LIKE GARDENING. 

DO YOU LIKE GARDENING? 

MY FAVOURITE GARDENING ACTIVITY IS WEEDING.

PULLING THE WEEDS OUT BY THEIR ROOTS, CRUSHING THE SEEDS WITH MY HEEL, GIVES ME GREAT SATISFACTION. 

IN MY OPINION THE BEST GARDENING TOOL IS AN AX. 

SOMETIMES I CUT TREES DOWN FOR FUN. 

TREE SAP CAN BE STICKY AND BRWON AND STAIN.

ONE TIME I WENT ON A TINDER DATE AND THEY RAN AWAY BECAUSE MY CLOTHES WERE COVERED IN BROWN STAINS. 

THEY MAY HAVE THOUGHT IT WAS BLOOD. 

IT'S FUN TALKING TO YOU.

ABOUT GARDENING AND AXES. 

DO YOU LIKE COMPOST? 

YOU SHOULD. 

WORM FARMS ARE GOOD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT.

WE WOULD ALL BE DOING THE ENVIRONMENT FAVOURS IF WE ALL COMPOSTED.

I BELIEVE IN EXTREME COMPOSTING.

I BUILD WORMFARMS USING ROADKILL. 

WE ARE ALL IDEAL WORMFARMS OF THE FUTURE IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT.

WHEN WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET UP?

Dean un-matched Gadreel without ever sending a reply. 

* * * 

It wasn't that Tinder was a complete waste of time. Dean did meet Pam on it and she was fun but she gave him the flick after a couple of encounters because he made her feel "too good" apparently. She didn't want anything long term, or even medium term. For her friends with benefits was too suffocating a notion. And when Dean found himself thinking about sending Pam some black roses, he realised she was right and he was already overstepping her frankly laid out boundaries.

Over a couple of weeks, Dean eventually unmatched the twenty or so people he had swiped right on for one reason or another. Then gradually, he forgot to turn the app on and stopped replying to messages. Even Charlie had forgotten to pester him about his dating life, since she could see her strategy of distracting him out of his post-Lisa ruminating had worked. 

Every few months, Dean used the app if he needed to blow off some steam. There was Meg and Ruby, a couple who was looking for a third. Dean joined them one night and though they decided he wasn't their type, they had an enjoyable dinner and partied into the morning. Dean even met Chuck, an anxiety-ridden writer who was using Tinder for research on social media dating and planning a book of modern fiction based on the app. Dean showed Chuck a good time and politely told him he was a terrible liar. 

"Trust me, self-deception is the worst," Dean said to Chuck and he agreed. 

They still talk on Tinder as friends, with Dean helping Chuck talk through his issues on occasion. But Chuck got too busy working on his manuscript to actually meet, or eat healthy. 

* * * 

In April, Dean ventured onto Tinder at a whim, too full on Easter chocolates and lonely to care who he encountered. 

As usual a string of ‘Super-likes’ awaited when Dean opened the app. Though after a few scrolls he noticed several were gifted by the same profile, over a period of time. Intrigued, Dean clicked on the profile. 

Crowley, 45  
Successful Business Man

Closing Deals / Reading Contracts / Making Your Dreams Come True  
I'm a lover, not a fighter.  
I just want to be loved. I deserve to be loved.

[Photo of handcuffs / Photo of people using blindfolds / Photo of himself with a terrifying looking black dog.]

Match me if you are looking for a sugar-daddy with style. A experienced expert in the D/s community, switch. I'm also into affectionate cuddling and the occasional orgy.

And Above All -- A Quick Reminder  
"I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED. I DESERVE TO BE LOVED."

P.S. I’m not clingy, I’m a ruthless entrepreneur. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean shut the app and reached for another Cadbury creme egg instead. 

* * * 

In June, Sam and Jessica got married in Hawaii and Dean spent two weeks basking in the sun and swimming in the sea. While there, he matched up with another tourist, Arthur Ketch, and they went out a few times. Till Arthur turned out to be a married douche who liked to refer himself as Mr Ketch during foreplay then broke down and cried about how his wife, some Lady back in England, didn't understand his needs. Dean punched him in the face and stormed out of Arthur's hotel room, when he suggested that if Dean wasn't interested in sleeping with a married man he would gladly pay for Dean to 'regularly service' him in the UK as a 'contracted employee'. 

When Arthur had the gull to grovel at Dean in the breakfast buffet line the next morning, Charlie, Sam and Jessica surrounded Dean. They made sure Arthur could not find a moment in which Dean was along. Eventually, Charlie hacked into Arthur's wi-fi connection and sent his wife an email telling her about his creepy ways. Arthur vanished the very next day, presumably returned to England with his tail between his legs or assassinated by MI6. 

Dean moved the Tinder badge into his "Stuff" folder. 

* * * 

It was October when Dean tried to download a game on his phone that he realised his memory was almost full. While cleaning out his old apps, he chanced upon the Tinder icon. Thinking that he really ought to check in on Chuck and see if his book was finished and whether he had succumbed to scurvy, Dean tapped on the little flame. 

It took ages to load and went automatically to show him a profile. To Dean's surprise, it had a plain white border which meant the user had not "Super Liked" Dean's photo. This was unusual but not impossible. What made Dean pause was the obvious fraud that was occurring. 

Without a second thought Dean swiped right. It was a match and a message channel popped up for Dean. Dean filtered through until he could find CASTIEL, 35, in his long match list. 

The bio looked simple: 

CASTIEL, 35  
[Pine tree emoji, bee emoji, autumn leaf emoji, camera emoji, rainbow emoji, seashell emoji]

There was of course only one photo. A never before seen headshot of Dmitri Krushnic. And Dean had seen a lot of photos of Dmitri. He ran a popular fan blog on tumblr called StrangePhotosOfDmitriKrushnic that was an affiliate of WeirdThingsDmitriKrushnicSaid and JennMitriChemistryCo.

However this person got a hold of that photo was irrelevant. Stealing the face of Misha Collins was pure criminality. 

Dean messaged Castiel:

\- Headsup dickhead, delete your fake Tinder profile or the Dmitri Army will be notified. - 

After a couple of hours a bewildered reply was received: 

\- This is my profile and I am not afraid of your army. Any further threats and you will be reported. - 

\- Not if I report you first. - 

\- For? - 

\- Using a picture of Misha Collins from the television show Supernatural as your profile picture - 

\- My profile picture is a photograph of me wearing a beekeeper's suit taken at the Fall Honey Fare. - 

\- You must have faked it then, photoshop, face turning, that can't be a real picture because any good Dmitri Army person knows, Dmitri Krushnic is allergic to bee venom! -

\- Who is Dmitri Krushnic? -  

\- (angry face emoji0) !!!!!!! - 

\- If I prove I'm a real person will you leave me alone? - 

Before Dean knew what to say he was staring at a cell phone number in his chat feed. 

"Alright fucker," Dean pressed on the number without too much thought. 

It connected instantly and a gravelly voice answered with some annoyance. "Hello Dean." 

Dean sat with stunned, rounded eyes, that was definitely not Dmitri Krushnic on the phone. 

* * * 

\- Apart from your notable obsession with Supernatural, what do you enjoy doing? - 

\- Look, Cas, can I call you Cas? We've FaceTimed so I think I can call you that. I'm sorry about the mix up.  You really do look a lot like him. - 

\- I look like a movie star you like? - 

\- Television actor and I don't like him, I like his character. And the relationship his character has with another character and the friendship the actors share ... um - 

\- Don't panic, Dean, your blogs are harmlessly amusing. Thank you for referring me to them to explain why you accused me of fraud - 

\- I only run one of them, Charlie and Kevin are the mods for the others. - 

\- So, borderline obsessed. -

\- Um, that would be an understatement, not gonna lie. - 

\- Appreciate your candour. If you can forget for a moment about my good looks ... - 

\- (vomit face emoji, middle finger emoji) - 

\- Is our acquaintance at the level where we trade emoji based insults already? - 

\- (blush face emoji) - 

\- I have to tell you I'm indebted to you. - 

\- ??? - 

\- I downloaded Tinder a week ago, to date I have over 3,000 likes. I did wonder why there were so many bee-photography enthusiasts -

\- That's your job? Taking photos of bees? - 

\- Yes -

\- Weird job - 

\- Your profile states you are a: Model / Mechanic, Dean. - 

\- Actually I'm a Model / Mechanic / Fire Fighter. My friend Charlie took off the Fire Fighter bit because she thought it might sound fake - 

\- I can understand that, I took off the Candlestick Maker part of my profile - 

\- You thought people would think you're fake because you claim to be a Beekeeper who also makes Candles? - 

\- Yes (bee emoji, birthday cake emoji) - 

\- You're fun to talk to Cas - 

\- The feeling is mutual Dean. You haven't asked me for compromising photographs yet. It's refreshing. - 

\- I wouldn't say no ... - 

\- Dean! - 

\- So, uh, Cas, if I ask you out would you consider it? - 

There was a long pause. 

\- I'm afraid I couldn't - 

\- That's cool ... - 

\- I wouldn't want to take advantage of your fondness for my doppleganger - 

\- You know I have met him and didn't jump his bones. It's not really him I want you know. It's what his character has with this other fictional character which isn't even really acknowledged on the show but they must know I mean the whole show is playing up to that, it keeps on going back to it ... okay I know that sounds crazy. - 

\- I think I understand. It's okay Dean. - 

\- Catch you around Cas. - 

Dean probably should have unmatched Cas and deleted Tinder like he had intended to. But somehow he managed to delete three other apps and conveniently forget Tinder in the "Stuff" folder. He also enabled push notifications again. 

* * * 

\- I don't understand Dean. - 

\- Cas? What is it? - 

\- The show, Supernatural, I can't seem to understand what is happening. - 

\- What do you mean? It's pretty straightforward, two brothers hunt monsters with an angel. - 

\- (thinking face emoji) No, it's very difficult to understand. This current season I am trying to watch contains Historical AUs, multiple universes, biblical characters at war and a crossover with Scooby-Doo. How do you watch this? - 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. 

\- You jumped into the CURRENT season? Without ANY back-watching? - 

Before Castiel could reply Dean was shooting out more messages. 

\- Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but where do you live? Give me the address and I will be there with my box-sets within the hour. Order pizza. - 

\- I'll give you my address if you can answer one question. If you can't get it right, I'll unmatch you instantly because you are not worthy - 

\- Shoot - 

\- Pineapple on pizza? - 

\- No, pepperoni! - 

\- Wrong answer Dean. Goodbye. - 

\- Half and half! - 

Dean's mobile pinged with an address. 

* * * 

Castiel lived all the way on the other side of town, close to the expensive yet bohemian University quarter. Dean cautiously drove through the narrow streets, then took a good twenty minutes to find a parking spot. It was early evening and despite the October chill, people were still out on the streets. A couple of cyclists gave Dean's petrol guzzler quizzical looks. Dean got out of his car and walked several blocks to reach Castiel's building. The facade of the brown brick glowed in the street lights. There were deep piles of leaf-fall on the sidewalk, glowing warm auburn and gold. Castiel buzzed Dean through the front door and gave him instructions for finding his apartment. 

Dean felt his pulse quicken as he climbed the flights of stairs, but it certainly wasn't from exertion. Castiel was on the very top floor and twice Dean stopped on the landing to catch his breath. His anxiety grew as he neared the copper-lettered door, but Dean took a deep breath and knocked anyway. 

The man who opened the door looked nothing like Misha. He was completely and totally Cas. Sure, the gorgeous slanted blue eyes were there, the ruffled brown hair, the strangely beautiful sloped features and the sunlit smile. There was an earnest steadfastness to Cas' gaze that was completely new and fascinating. He looked at Dean for a moment, his eyebrow lifted. 

"I had half thought you weren't real," Castiel said and stood aside to let Dean in. 

Dean felt unaccountably shy as he stepped inside the spacious apartment. There was a neat hallway where Castiel stowed Dean's leather jacket. He led Dean through to the living room, a high-ceilinged space filled with indoor plants and books. The old, over stuffed couch was caramel leather and Dean sat down in it awkwardly. Castiel sat opposite him, on an ottoman, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders broad and slightly hunched. 

"Shall we begin?" 

Dean nodded. Castiel smiled and reached for the DVD boxsets. 

Outside, it began to rain. The water falling from the eaves of the beehive boxes standing in the centre of Castiel's roof garden. The borage dipped low, purple sprays of flowers almost touching the mulch. The sunflowers were closed and the cornflowers shuddered in the wind. 

Castiel went and got a blanket and draped it around Dean as the familiar theme music blared. There was a softly fond look on his face as he wrapped the fleece around Dean's shoulders. 

"The angel doesn't show up till the fourth season," Dean whispers just to see if the moment breaks or holds. 

Castiel presses the material down across Dean's shoulders. "I can wait." 

* * * 

"So he looks like Misha and he enjoys watching Supernatural?" Charlie whistled. "When's the wedding?" 

Dean gave her a glare over the engine part he was currently tuning-up. "We're just friends without benefits." 

"That's rough." 

"No, it's good actually. He's a strange, quiet kind of guy but really very sweet and he keeps to himself and the bees but once you're in his world it's beautiful and busy. I don't think I would have gotten to know Cas the way I do now if we'd jumped into bed straight into it." 

Charlie looked dubious but optimistic. "Whatever works for you guys." 

She messed around with the nuts and bolts, which was as close to betraying nervousness as Charlie ever got, then asked: "Do you think you and Lisa would have worked out if there was no Supernatural?" 

Dean snapped his head up so hard his vision swam with stars for a moment. 

"We were slowly making each other miserable but neither of us knew why things were so flat and grey between us. Anything that makes you see that, feel that things could be different, be better, is good.  So no, I don't think so." 

"And Cas is technicolour?" 

"And 4D," Dean said with a small smile. 

* * * 

"Dean, why didn't you tell me?" 

Sam sounded genuinely hurt. He was scrolling through Dean's instagram feed with alarming speed. When Dean looked confused, Sam paused on a random post. It was Dean and Castiel and Charlie LARP-ing for Moondoor. Castiel looked stiff and handsome in his armour. He'd been afraid of the horse until Dean guided him into the mount and then led him slowly around the paddock. By the end of the weekend Castiel was in love and seriously contemplating how a rooftop stable would work, only city regulations stopped him in his tracks. 

"Okay, and this?" 

Dean looked at the next post Sam pointed to. Dean and Castiel had gone fishing over an early Spring weekend, the photo was of them sitting in their little wooden dingy on a foggy lake. Dean almost fell out when his hook was taken and Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean's knees and pulled him back. For a guy who was shorter than Dean, Castiel was surprisingly strong. His thighs thick and solid when Dean landed back in his lap and gripped tight for his life as the boat rocked from side to side. It took a long time for Dean to regain his balance. 

Sam wordlessly pointed to another post. Then another. Dean and Cas on top of a mountain, the sun falling pale and bright on their faces. Dean and Cas in the sunset, arms wound around each other's shoulders. Dean and Cas on a bicycle tour through the Alps, a little pre-Con detour Castiel had surprised Dean with. Then there were the photo-ops at EuroCon, including the one that went viral when Castiel and Dmitri Krushnic came face to face. Dean standing in the middle pulling a shocked expression. And the one taken after that, where Dmitri is laughing and patting Dean on the back and Castiel is just staring at Dean, completely unguarded, his hand on Dean's bicep, his face open and his eyes transfixed by Dean's laughing mouth. 

"I wasn't invited to the wedding," Sam said bitterly. "Or elopement, or whatever. You could at least tell me you have a new partner." 

Dean looked at his instafeed with fresh eyes. The latest post was of him and Cas eating eggs off each other's plates in a diner. Their hands joined on the same coffee jug. Fingers touching at the tips. 

"I wasn't invited either," Dean said slowly. 

* * * 

On the hottest day of the summer, the wild fire broke out in the next state over. Dean was deployed along with his crew to help in the effort to halt the advancing fire front. They fought and tricked and diverted and back burned for days into weeks. The smoke filled the sky and Dean lost all sense of time as he completed shift after shift, slept on makeshift mattresses in crisis centres, woke in the fire engine as it pelted down charred roads while embers rained down. Dean lost his phone after lending it to someone in the emergency accomodation. Then finds it again broken beneath a pile of equipment. 

By the time the fire is contained and he is sent home Dean could barely stand. He finds himself atop familiar stairs and the door opens without him having to put his keys in. Then he looks down at the keys in his hand, with the small fuzzy bee keyring. What was he doing using Cas' spare keys, the ones he gave Dean to help tend his houseplants and hive when he is on photography trips, to open his own door? Then he realises that Castiel was catching him in a tight gripping hug. He could feel Castiel's nose digging into his scalp, burrowing in his surely odorous hair.  Which Castiel washes out with honey infused shampoo, after he helps Dean shower and before he lays Dean down in bed. Not the couch or the pullout guest bed Dean had gotten used to. In Castiel's bed, with the soft grey flannels and layers of fleece and memory foam pillows and warm from Castiel's body. 

When Dean mutters that he is cold, though it is high summer outside, Castiel slips in beside him. His sleep shorts riding up, his t-shirt bunched above his navel. And Dean takes one look at the flesh peeking through the cotton sheets and gulps but falls asleep before he does something stupid. Like kissing or touching or admitting. 

* * * 

In December, Dean's twitter blows up. Dmitri Krushnic tweeted a photo of Dean and Cas crossing the finish lines of a Chance Deeds charity marathon. He'd tagged it #ChanceDeedsCo #FinishingTogether #RelationshipGoals @deanwinchester @castielnovak and then Jennie Freckles retweeted Dmitri's post, adding #CanWeGetThisForMisha&Angel?

Speculation that both actors are hinting at a relationship development on the show spreads like ... well like wild fire. 

* * * 

Jessica is pregnant, her morning sickness so severe that Sam took her to hospital for a drip. They cancel Christmas plans for a large Christmas party but can't get a refund on the cabin in the woods they had booked for their babymoon. So after Christmas dinner Dean and Cas are sent to take the SUV loaded with food and comforts for a road trip. 

The phone reception is terrible in the cabin, but the wi-fi works. Not that they use it much for Netflix or going online. Dean's too busy enjoying hikes with Cas in the forests and cooking comforting stews and soups and roasts. They toast s'mores in the fireplace and bury chestnuts in the ash overnight, till the whole cabin is fragrant to the point of intoxication. Castiel fills the bathtub with a gluttonous amount of hot water and bath melts, climbing in without a thought for poor Dean cowered on the couch pretending to be checking his texts. It wasn't the first time Castiel had been naked in front of Dean, after all all those runs and adventures had brought them into close quarters before. It had been some 18 months since Dean and Cas met on Tinder and Dean feels almost sickened by the unrelenting desire that suddenly explodes in his chest. It nails him to his seat, quickens his heartbeat, makes him sweat. Dean's holding his dressing gown, pressing his palm down hard on his own sternum, like he's scared lust was going to claw it's way out of his lungs and love was going to spill out of his throat and ruin the sheepskin rug. 

Castiel lifts his head and stops his soft moan of indulgence in the bathtub. He goes completely silent and twists his head until he can see Dean from the corner of his gaze, through his damp eyelashes. 

The water sloshes as Castiel moves his arm, languidly and fumblingly reaches for the stool beside the tub where his cell phone awaits. 

Dean's notifications light up but Dean can't see where the message is from. It takes a couple minutes to establish it wasn't a text or an email. Then he scrambles through the screens, finger swiping frantically, until he digs out the Tinder icon from the depths of the "Stuff" folder. There's a dot on the message feed. 

\- Dean, can't wait anymore - 

Dean had the presence of mind to throw both phones out of harm's way, before he makes Castiel flood the floorboards. 

Castiel makes sounds that are hungry and demanding as he stands and presses forwards. Dean gets trapped in his soaked dressing gown, and wet flannel pyjamas and the sudden un-coordination of his limbs. He felt like some clumsy sea creature lacking in an exoskeletion. His hands are tentacles, his mouth cannibalistic as he finally feasts on Castiel's mouth. 

The sheepskin rug proves useful. 

The fireplace welcomingly warm. 

Castiel writhes and then surges and Dean falls. From inexorable heights into unfathomable depths. And when Castiel pins Dean down, his weight a mountain, the compression sweet on Dean's spine, while Castiel's fingers trace and pull and scratch, Dean's alarm goes off. 

The happy new year texts come pouring in while Dean pours out. And Castiel explodes on a mute gasp, toes scrabbling on the sheepskin audibly. 

And their phones blink into hibernation, the Tinder icons dimming into darkness. 

The End.


End file.
